


Mated

by ClaireBHypno



Series: Bonded [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Baby Watson-Holmes - Freeform, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Omega John, Omega Verse, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:46:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8707588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireBHypno/pseuds/ClaireBHypno
Summary: After their unexpected bond, and the surprise that came with it, John and Sherlock have to adjust to their new life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Bonded, if you haven't read that one, I'd suggest doing so first!
> 
> Please keep an eye on the tags and the rating, both are likely to change as the story develops.
> 
> Oh, and I'm sorry in advance for all the angst... and the swearing... but that's John's fault, not mine... :0(
> 
> -text written like this denotes text messages-

John rolled over onto his side, sliding his legs out from underneath the covers and pushing himself up to a seated position. He took a moment to get used to his centre of gravity, then pushed up from the bed, heading for the bathroom. Sherlock rolled into the warm space John had left behind, muttering something sleepily under his breath, and reaching out for John. His eyes popped open immediately, and he sat bolt upright in bed.

“John? John, where are you?” He scrambled out of the bed, grabbing at clothes that had been left on the bedroom floor, and hopping around on one leg attempting to fit his leg into John’s maternity jeans.

John rolled his eyes as he attempted to aim into the toilet bowl – he hadn’t been able to see anything below the line of his belly button for the last two weeks – and called out, “I’m in the loo, Sherlock, for God’s sake, can’t I even have a piss by myself anymore?” Sherlock appeared at John’s shoulder, with a look of relief on his face.

“John,” he scolded, “you should have asked me to help, I know you don’t find it easy by yourself.” He reached around John, activating the flush, then steered him gently over to the sink and began to wash John’s hands for him. John sighed, and gave himself over to Sherlock’s attentions. He’d been lucky to get as far as he had this morning without Sherlock ‘helping’ him earlier; yesterday he’d actually tried to… hold John… while he emptied his bladder. That had resulted in John being completely unable to go, and angrily throwing Sherlock out of the bathroom, not that he’d wanted to go, of course.

John was starting to get fed up with this pregnancy; the eight months since Sherlock had dropped the bombshell on him had been both the loveliest and most frustrating months of his entire life. Sherlock had been so attentive that John had hardly been able to do anything for himself. Initially it had been fantastic; Sherlock was usually very self-centred, so to be the sole focus of his attention had been amazing. The novelty had worn off, however, when a month later Sherlock had peremptorily decreed that John would no longer be going to work but instead staying home and resting. John had stormed out of the flat to grab a cab in to work, only to find that none of them would take him, Sherlock having paid off all of the drivers in the area. He had phoned Sarah at the surgery to explain that he would be a little late, as he would have to catch the Tube in, only to be told that they were not expecting him; Sherlock had already given his notice on his behalf over a month ago. John had been furious, but since Sarah had already replaced him, there was little he could do. 

Sherlock himself had begun refusing cases from Lestrade, and only accepting the ones from the website that he could solve without needing to leave the flat, or indeed to let clients visit. The only people allowed into the flat were Mrs Hudson and Mike Stamford, although Mike was only allowed in to conduct John’s antenatal check-ups and then very firmly escorted from the premises. Mycroft had attempted to visit, but as he was an Alpha, Sherlock’s response had been to stand blocking the bottom of the stairs and growl fiercely until Mycroft had gracefully raised his hands and left.

John had received a text message from Mycroft as Sherlock had been throwing the stiff, unused bolts on the front door before heading up the stairs and doing the same with the front door to their flat.

-Please let me know if you need anything, those little Danish butter biscuits you’ve been craving, new clothes that fit over your bump, kidnapping…-

John wasn’t sure when Mycroft had developed a sense of humour, but he thought it was around the time he had found out that Sherlock and John were bonded. Mycroft had certainly stopped interfering quite as much in Sherlock’s life at that point, John suspected it had something to do with the fact that Sherlock had become much less reckless since he had had an Omega to care for. Mycroft had become much more relaxed, John had never seen him this way before, and he was a little surprised to realise he actually quite liked his brother-in-law. Mycroft’s sense of humour had developed further when he had found out John was pregnant – or at least, when he had let Sherlock and John _know_ that he knew John was pregnant. John was also not sure how Mycroft knew he was craving the little Danish butter biscuits, or that he had so far been unsatisfied since they only ever seemed to appear at Christmas. He had been tempted to reply requesting biscuits, but knew that would only tip Sherlock over into fury – it was _HIS_ job as John’s Alpha to provide for his Omega and for his unborn child. John settled for hastily thanking Mycroft and deleting the text – and his reply – from his phone.

A couple of days after the bathroom incident, John decided he couldn’t stand being in the flat a moment longer, and that he needed to get out by whatever means were necessary. He waited until Sherlock was in the shower and made a run for it – although in his heavily pregnant state, it was more of a waddle – and he made it as far as Speedy’s downstairs before the ungainliness and the backache that had been plaguing him all night forced him to rest up. Luckily, the only people in the café were the petite, dark-haired Beta waitress, and another Omega, who left soon after John arrived. The waitress sat him down in a corner, rummaging about behind the counter for a few cushions and making him comfortable, before refusing to bring him a cappuccino and instead providing a cup of camomile tea. He grimaced, but thanked her for her consideration. Approximately five minutes later, Sherlock burst out of their front door, hair dripping, one hand holding up his trousers, shirt unbuttoned and only one shoe on, the other in his hand. He was shouting into his mobile phone at Mycroft loudly demanding he scramble helicopters and scour the CCTV to see who had kidnapped his pregnant mate. John sighed deeply, and then asked the waitress to tell Sherlock he was sitting inside.

Sherlock skidded into the café, dropping immediately to his knees and scanning his body looking for injuries. “John?! What happened?! Who took you? How did you get away?” he blurted out, grabbing at John and trying to pull him up out of his seat and out of the café.

“Sherlock, what are you doing? Let go, you’re hurting me!” John yanked his arm out of Sherlock’s grip, and folded his arms, glaring at his bondmate. “I wasn’t taken by anybody, Sherlock, I just wanted to get out of the flat! I’m sick of it, it’s stifling up there, it was doing my head in!”

Sherlock sat back on his heels, a look of profound hurt on his face at John’s words. He stood up stiffly, a mask dropping into place over his features, and he turned on his heel, sweeping out of the café.

“Sherlock? Sherlock!” John called after Sherlock, struggling to get up out of the seat, but he had already gone, and seconds later, John heard the slam of the door to 221 Baker Street. He finally managed to get up out of the seat, but felt a sharp pain as he did that caused him to drop back into his seat, and a rush of fluid that told him his waters had broken – it seemed that the movement had started his labour. An intense contraction had him crying out sharply, and the pretty waitress came rushing over, realising immediately what had happened.

“John? Are you okay?” she asked in a concerned voice, putting her arm around his shoulders. “Do you want me to call an ambulance?” John sucked in a deep breath, his eyes watering, and shook his head.

“I’ll get Sherlock to take me in,” he said, and fumbled his phone out of his pocket. He dialled Sherlock’s number, but it just rang, eventually flicking over to voicemail. “Sherlock, I need you, my waters have broken, please hurry!” He ended the call as another sharp contraction overtook him, and at the noise he made, the waitress shook her head, and called for an urgent ambulance.

“He can go in the ambulance with you, okay, John?” she said, soothing the anxious man as he gritted his teeth through another contraction.

*****

Sherlock stamped up the stairs to 221B, and threw himself down on the sofa, his back to the world. He didn’t understand his Omega; all he had done was what any Alpha would do, to look after his precious, pregnant mate and make sure he didn’t need to do _anything_. Well, if he wasn’t going to be appreciated, he wouldn’t bother any more, see how John felt about that. A few moments later, Sherlock heard his phone ring, but when he saw John’s name on the lit screen, he tossed the phone across the room and ignored it. He didn’t even look up when he heard the ping that signified a voicemail message had been left, he was sure it was just John phoning to tell him how _stifling_ he was being, by caring enough to try and find John when he thought he’d been kidnapped. When the phone rang again twenty minutes later, he ignored it again, determined not to _stifle_ John.

*****

The ambulance pulled up outside Speedy’s, and quickly bundled John onto a trolley, loading him onto the waiting vehicle and speeding him away towards the hospital. It all happened so quickly that he didn’t even have time to protest that he needed to wait for his Alpha, and besides, the contractions were kind of keeping him occupied. The journey itself was a bit of a blur as John concentrated on trying to remember the advice he had given to so many Omegas over the years – keep breathing, relax, just let your body do what it knows how to do... He was rushed into the maternity unit, and thought for a moment or two that he could see Mycroft at the desk as they went past – but that was silly, why would Mycroft be there and not Sherlock? Then the doors to the maternity unit closed behind him, and he was gently being moved onto the bed in a luxurious birthing suite and stripped of the clothing on his bottom half. After that, was pain, sweat and tears.

*****

Mycroft had been in the middle of a meeting with the Vice President of the USA when his assistant entered the room. He was so surprised that she had interrupted him that he almost raised an eyebrow; she knew the meeting was of the utmost importance as he had finally managed to manipulate the situation so that the Americans would agree to the provisions he had placed in the treaty. Anthea leaned down to murmur in his ear, “It’s Dr Watson, sir, he’s in labour, and without Sherlock.” Within moments, the Vice President had been dismissed, and Mycroft was on his way to the hospital, arriving a couple of minutes before John. He quickly arranged for a private suite, and began filling in the admission paperwork, the cup of tea Anthea had provided from some pretentious hipster café around the corner at his elbow. Pretentious it might be, but the tea was really very good. He handed the last of the paperwork over to the admitting nurse, and looked around for Sherlock… who still wasn’t there. He rang Sherlock’s mobile, but the call just went through to voicemail; he didn’t bother to leave a message. Another quick phone call later, and Detective Inspector Lestrade had been despatched to bring his errant brother in to attend to his Omega.

*****

The sound of a siren heading down Baker Street didn’t stir Sherlock either, he was so wrapped up in his own head; it wasn’t until about half an hour later when there was a loud banging on the front door that he even stirred out of his mind palace. He had just made the decision to stay where he was when the hammering happened again. There was the sound of Mrs Hudson opening the door; Sherlock could hear her twittering away at whoever was there, most likely telling them off for the noise they had made. Then Sherlock heard her gasp, and Lestrade’s footsteps pounding up the stairs. The door to the flat banged open, and Lestrade was dragging him up off the sofa and shoving him towards the door, shouting at him. It took a second or two for Sherlock to work out what Lestrade was saying, but when he did, his breath caught and the world seemed to stop.

“What the hell are you playing at, Sherlock, John’s been in labour for half an hour!!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock races to get to the hospital in time, but when he gets there, he discovers Mycroft has already arrived... and that might be more than he can bear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #sorrynotsorry
> 
> *****POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING*****
> 
> This chapter contains a description of childbirth - it's not graphic by any means, but it's a traumatic birth. If you want to avoid the chapter, zip to the end notes for a summary.

John was terrified. His labour seemed to be progressing too quickly, even though he realised the backache that had plagued him all night was most likely due to him having being in the early stages. He needed Sherlock. During childbirth, the Alpha’s scent kept the Omega calm and their pheromones reacted with the Omega’s brain chemistry to ensure the proper dilation of the birth canal. If no Alpha was with the Omega, things could go very wrong very quickly; if the birth canal didn’t dilate enough, it could result in trauma to the child, and major damage to the Omega, sometimes even death. For this reason, the hospital kept a couple of unbonded Alphas on staff in the maternity unit for any Omegas who came in without an Alpha, but John had flatly refused to have one of them in with him. Although the babies developed a bond with the Alpha in the room at their birth, there were drugs that could be given to break the bond with only a minor lasting effect on the child, and besides, new therapies were being developed every day to help them overcome the effects.

The small blonde midwife, Mary, held his hand and blotted his forehead with a dampened flannel. The room was almost uncomfortably warm, kept that way on purpose for the newborn infants. “Come on John, you’re doing really well, that’s it!” She didn’t understand why John’s Alpha was sitting outside in an office when he should be in the birthing suite, helping his Omega bring their child into the world, but John had been insistent, as had the besuited man currently scribbling away on some old scraps of paper Mary had managed to scrounge up for him.

John started to pant again, and buried his nose in one of Sherlock’s old scarves; luckily Mycroft had had one in his office from one of Sherlock’s visits, and had been able to grab it and bring it with him to the hospital. Not nearly a substitute for the man himself, nonetheless John had been able to get some comfort from it, and it had helped a little with the dilation. Still, he wished Sherlock would hurry up and get there soon.

*****

Even with Lestrade’s lights and sirens, the ride to the hospital was interminable because of the volume of traffic on the roads, and Sherlock was more than ready to leap out of the car and run by the time they arrived. He shoved his way past the crowds of people milling about in reception, scanning the signage for the maternity unit. Having virtually abandoned the car, Greg followed Sherlock into the hospital, just catching sight of his long legs disappearing around a corner. He ran after the anxious Alpha, pushing through the crowds of people as swiftly but gently as he could, and caught up with him outside the locked doors to the maternity unit. Sherlock was repeatedly pushing on the buzzer, rattling the doors and demanding entrance to the unit, which was being denied by a rather stern looking maternity nurse. He was on the verge of trying to break the door down, when Mycroft appeared, laying his hand gently on the nurse’s arm and speaking softly into her ear. She glared at Sherlock one more time, and then activated the buzzer to release the door.

*****

The stress of the morning’s argument with Sherlock had accelerated his labour enough that only fifteen minutes after his arrival at the hospital, John could no longer resist the urge to push. The room was filling up with Beta staff; two obstetricians and a paediatrician, as well as Mary and another midwife. Trays of sterile equipment were being ripped open, and urgent phone calls were being made for blood to be sent up to the room. 

*****

Sherlock took in Mycroft’s appearance, no jacket, tie removed, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows – although his waistcoat was still on with fob watch attached, he liked his little idiosyncrasies – and leapt to the obvious conclusion. Once it was all over, he reflected that if it hadn’t been for the stress of the situation, he might have observed some other telling details, such as the smudge of ink on Mycroft’s right index finger, the creases in his trousers and the redness of his left ear. As it happened though, Sherlock was already in an impaired emotional state, and so these minor details escaped him.

Mycroft hurried forwards to take Sherlock by the shoulders. “John was delivered of a son, Sherlock…” He continued to talk to Sherlock, but as he did so, his little brother appeared to collapse, as though he was a puppet whose strings had been cut. The sound that came from him froze Mycroft’s blood in his veins; he had never heard a sound of such pain before, not from anyone, let alone his baby brother. “Mycroft… no…. please…” A look of anguish on his face, Sherlock turned tail and ran, pushing past a bewildered Greg and disappearing down the corridor.

“What the…? Mycroft?” Greg did what would have been a comical double take, had it appeared in a television program, before settling his gaze back on Mycroft.

“Get him back here, please Greg, John’s in a bad way, he needs his Alpha!”

“Why is he running?!” Greg shouted back as he shot off down the corridor after Sherlock. Mycroft scrubbed his hands through his hair, wishing he had time to figure it out, but the situation with the Americans needed to be dealt with very delicately now, after he had been forced to cut their meeting short. He sighed, and went back to the desk in the tiny office the maternity staff had been kind enough to let him use. He picked up his Montblanc fountain pen, ready to make notes as he made another round of telephone calls while he waited for more news of John.

*****

John was aware of a tearing pain, warmth and wetness gushing over his legs, bodies rushing round him and Mary speaking to him in a calm and soothing voice. Then came his child’s cry – the single best sound he had ever heard. As his life blood continued to pump from him, the last thing he said before his eyes fluttered closed and the obstetricians frantically began to stich him up was, “promise me they won’t try to move us, not before my Alpha gets here…” Mary nodded, and then John sank into darkness.

*****

Greg managed to catch up with Sherlock just outside the hospital, where he was scrunched in a ball up against the wall. Greg had never seen him look like that in the whole time he had known the younger man; even when he had been gripped by withdrawal, shivering and vomiting, with a look of naked desire for some cocaine to ease his suffering, but determination to win out in his eyes.

“Sherlock, what is it? Come on, John needs you, you have to come back inside!” Sherlock shook his head, eyes filled with tears, vulnerability written all over his face. “Come on mate, you heard Mycroft, you’ve got a son!” He grabbed Sherlock around the bicep and pulled him to his feet, ushering him back into the hospital, Sherlock dragging his feet and shaking his head the whole way.

“I can’t, Greg, Mycroft…” and at this, he burst into great heaving sobs. Greg turned to him, astonished, and wrapped his arms around Sherlock, who buried his face into Greg’s shoulder. The policeman murmured soothing nonsense to Sherlock, swiftly escorting him to a raised planter with walls wide enough to sit on. They sat for a few moments, while Sherlock regained control of himself. Finally, with a couple of sniffs and gulping swallows, Sherlock looked up at Greg, eyes red and nose running.

“Come on Sherlock, what’s all this about?” he asked softly, handing him a tissue. “What about Mycroft?” Sherlock blew his nose, and started to shred the tissue, eyes in his lap rather than on Greg’s face, as though he couldn’t bear to look at the other man.

“Come on Greg, you know what happens when an Alpha is in the room while an Omega gives birth… The child bonds with the first Alpha they meet, my son will have bonded with my brother, and there’s nothing I can do about it… Not to mention that John will have some kind of… bond, connection, call it whatever you like… with Mycroft… I need to go back to Baker Street and pack, I can’t be there when they get home…”

Greg threw his head back and laughed. “Is that what all this is about? For a genius, Sherlock, you really are an idiot! John needs YOU, he’s been on his own apart from the Beta midwives the whole time, Mycroft says he’s in a bad way… Sherlock, he needs his Alpha, you have to get up there!”

“But… Mycroft… his jacket…”

“He’s been working in an office in the maternity unit, it’s sweltering in there because of the newborns… He had to leave a meeting with the Vice President of America when you wouldn’t answer your phone, you twit!” As he spoke, Greg could see the light returning to Sherlock’s eyes, followed by guilt as he realised how much John must be suffering without him.

“I have to get back up there, Greg,” he gabbled, and ran in the direction of the maternity unit once more.

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Greg grinned, and ran off after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omegas need their Alphas with them in labour to prevent major damage to the Omega. Babies bond with the first Alpha they meet, so John refuses to have any Alpha in the birthing suite with him, so Sherlock can bond with his child. Sherlock doesn't make it until after John has given birth, so John suffers injury that needs urgent treatment as a result. When Sherlock arrives, he sees Mycroft in his shirtsleeves, and assumes he was in the birthing suite with John and has therefore bonded with Sherlock's child, so he runs away and Greg has to chase after him and put him right.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets to meet his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags updated!

When Sherlock pushed open the door to the birthing suite, he was greeted by the sight of John asleep in a hospital bed and looking smaller and paler than he had ever seen him look before. There was a small plastic bassinet on wheels nestled up against the side of the bed, which Sherlock ignored for the time being. His hands flew up to his mouth, and tears welled in his eyes at the overwhelming guilt he felt for not helping his Omega in his time of need. Sherlock took a step or two closer to the bed, torn between wanting to check to make sure John was okay, and feeling that he had let him down so badly that he shouldn’t be in the room at all.

“What are you playing at, you git, get over here…” came the slightly slurred mumble from the bed, as John opened one eye. “I can hear you thinking from here, it’s annoying,” and at that, he opened the other eye, pushing his hands down into the mattress to attempt to lever himself upright in the bed. At John’s grimace of pain and whoosh of breath, Sherlock’s indecision broke, and he rushed to the side of the bed, hands gently pressing John back down into the mattress.

“John, what are you doing? You need to rest, stay still!”

“I need to introduce you to our son, Sherlock, and he’s going to want feeding soon…” Sherlock turned to the bassinet for the first time, gazing down at the small bundle, wrapped in a pale blue blanket. He stepped around the end of the bed to the side with the bassinet, gazing down into a pair of eyes the same colour as his own.

“I know that it’s possible that his eyes will change colour, but I really hope they don’t… they look so much like yours, Sherlock, they’re beautiful…” John smiled as he realised Sherlock hadn’t taken in a single word he had just said. He activated the button that would raise the back of the bed, allowing him to sit up, and then touched his Alpha gently on the hand, saying, “Are you going to pick him up then?”

Sherlock swallowed hard, and dipped his hands into the bassinet. “Gently,” John murmured, “support his head… That’s it…” Sherlock couldn’t believe how small the little bundle was, how light… He sat carefully down on the side of the bed, tucked up as close to John as he could get so the Omega could scent him. He allowed John to adjust his arms so that the baby was nestled carefully in the crook of his elbow, and with the index finger of his other hand, he traced a gentle line down the baby’s nose, marvelling at how warm and soft the skin was. He turned to John with a look of wonder on his face, and found words had failed him completely. This… miracle… was his son; after months of waiting, he was finally here! And between them, John and Mycroft had ensured that Sherlock would be the first Alpha to meet his child. He felt a sudden rush of emotion; love for his brave and stubborn Omega, and a fierce warm rush of filial affection.

Just at that moment, the door opened, and a pretty petite blonde Beta woman walked in. “Hi John, how are you feeling?” she asked, with a smile in his direction. Sherlock gave her his best glare, but the baby in his arms gurgled a little, and he suddenly found he couldn’t spare her the attention.

“Hi Mary,” John responded with a smile, “quite a bit better than the last time you saw me, thanks!” The blonde started pulling on the blankets, straightening them and tucking them under the mattress, fluffing the pillows, checking John’s water jug. She looked over at Sherlock, who was still enraptured by his son’s eyes.

“You must be John’s Alpha,” Mary said with a smile. “He told us what happened, but you’re here now, that’s the main thing. He gave us quite a scare for a minute or two! You need to scoot right up close, so he can scent at your neck where the pheromones are strongest, if you haven’t already? It’ll help him with the healing. Do you need anything, John? Do you want me to prepare the little one a bottle?”

“I’m good, ta, but yeah, he’s going to need a bottle soon, I think.” John smiled at the blonde, and Sherlock thought vaguely that she was being a little bit too friendly with John; hadn’t she realised that he was sitting right next to his bonded Alpha? Mary disappeared back out of the room again, and Sherlock allowed his hackles to go back down a bit. He stretched his finger out, and the baby gripped it tightly. He was amazed at how perfect the tiny fingers were, the little hand not even the size of half of one of Sherlock’s fingers.

“So what are we going to name him?” John’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “We can’t just keep calling him ‘the little one’, or ‘the baby’, he needs a proper name. What do you think of David?” Sherlock considered for a moment, and then wrinkled his nose.

“In all the cases I’ve dealt with, the name that cropped up most often as the perpetrator is David. We are not naming our son after criminals, John.” John laughed at the affronted look on Sherlock’s face.

“Okay, so what do you suggest?”

“How about Alexander, after your father?” John’s eyes misted up a little, and he nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Alexander Sigerson,” he said, “after both of our fathers.” 

“Alexander Sigerson,” Sherlock repeated, and Alexander snuffled a little, as though he approved of his new name. The little family sat quietly, just being with each other, until Mary came slipping back into the room with the bottle.

“Here you go, little one,” she said, looking down at the baby while handing the bottle to John.

“Mary, I’d like you to meet Alexander Sigerson Watson-Holmes,” John said softly.

“That’s a big name for a little boy,” she cooed, bustling about the room. “Let me know if you need anything, John, won’t you?”

“I will,” John replied, and handed the bottle over to Sherlock, who waved it vaguely at Alexander, as though expecting him to reach out and take it. John chuckled a little, giving Sherlock a couple of tips, and before long, Alexander was happily suckling on his bottle, wide eyes gazing up at his Papa.

Sherlock had to tear his eyes away from the baby when he became aware of John’s weight leaning on his arm. He was sleeping, but looked pale and sweaty, and Sherlock was sharply reminded of how much John had suffered during the birth. He finished feeding Alexander, brought him up onto his shoulder and gently patted his back until he brought up a large burp. “Just like your Daddy, Alexander,” Sherlock muttered quietly, and gently tucked the sleepy baby back into his bassinet.

Sherlock took his coat off, laying it over the bottom of the bed. He unfastened the top buttons of his shirt, and pulled the collar wide, to allow John to get as close to his skin as possible. Carefully and slowly, Sherlock climbed up onto the bed beside John, sliding his arm behind his Omega’s head, and drawing his nose close to the pheromones issuing from Sherlock’s neck. John sighed, and snuggled in closer, visibly relaxing; Sherlock could see that the pheromones were helping already, although John still had a long way to go.

There was a gentle tap on the door; Sherlock could see Mycroft’s face through the small window and he beckoned his brother to come in.

“Congratulations, baby brother,” Mycroft said softly as he approached the bed.

“Mycroft… I can’t thank you enough for what you did for me and for John, I don’t know what I’d have done if….” he trailed off, unsure of the best way to finish the sentence.

“Come now Sherlock, I couldn’t have my nephew bonding with a member of staff now, could I? And frankly, what with the American situation, I didn’t have time to do it myself…” Sherlock knew that despite Mycroft’s apparently disinterested tone, he had fought fiercely to protect the rights of both John and his unborn child; to do what was best for his baby brother’s family.

“Do you have time to hold him now, or do you have to go and spank the Americans?” Sherlock asked with a grin. Mycroft’s only response was to step closer and gently lift the sleeping child from his bed. A look of wonder briefly crossed his face, and then the stoic politician was back.

“Alexander Sigerson,” Sherlock answered the unspoken question.

“Father would have approved,” Mycroft replied, and sat at the end of the bed, his nephew safely tucked in his arms.  
They sat together for an hour, before Mycroft said he ought to be going, and handed Alexander back to Sherlock.

“Goodbye little one, I’ll see you again soon.” He squeezed Sherlock’s shoulder briefly, and left, closing the door softly behind him. Sherlock looked down at his son, sleeping in his arms, and at his Omega, resting comfortably next to him, and felt as though his heart would burst with happiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I confess, my ex-husband is a David... snigger snigger.... I'm saying nothing about his criminal tendencies, however....


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock takes baby Xander home and tries to cope without John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for the sake of clarity, Sherlock calls Alexander Xander, while John calls him Alex. They are the same person!

The next few weeks were very difficult for Sherlock. Alexander was judged to be well enough to go home on the fourth day and since John and Sherlock had decided to bottle feed, there was no need for him to stay in the hospital with John. John, on the other hand, was still too unwell to be discharged; going through the birth without Sherlock, his Alpha, had taken its toll on John. Sherlock took baby Xander home, and muddled through as best as he could. They had discussed how they wanted to raise their baby over the long months of John’s pregnancy, but Sherlock decided very quickly that routine could wait until Xander had two parents at home to implement it.

Sherlock’s nights consisted of catching some sleep on the bed with Xander tucked up closely beside him (instead of in his brand new cot, as agreed with John), and walking blearily round the kitchen jiggling a crying baby while waiting for his bottle to warm. No more staying up for days at a time until the early hours and then crashing into bed; instead, Sherlock was continuously exhausted. Days followed a similar routine, with the added stress of a trip across London to the hospital so John could see baby Alex and scent Sherlock’s pheromones. Mycroft had offered to put Sherlock up in a hotel close to the hospital, but he had refused, on the basis that there were too many experiments that needed his attention. In actuality, Sherlock was feeling more unsettled than he had ever felt; having a small infant to look after and no mate to help was a difficult situation for him and being in his own flat gave Sherlock a little feeling of comfort. Mycroft had smiled privately at this, suspecting that Sherlock would have very little time to do anything with his experiments except watch Mrs Hudson as she disposed of their remains, but had simply offered his brother any help that Sherlock thought he might need.

Mrs Hudson had popped upstairs for another visit on the third day Xander had been home, and was shocked when Sherlock thrust him at her, almost in tears, and babbling that he couldn’t do it, that he didn’t know how to be a father, that she should take Xander away and let someone else look after him. Mrs Hudson had taken one look at them both, picked up Xander and sent Sherlock off to bed for a solid 8 hours of sleep. After that, she made a point of coming up to visit at least twice a day. She came first thing in the morning as Sherlock was getting up, and insisted on taking the baby for cuddles and feeding him, and she came back around teatime, insisting she had cooked too much again, and asking Sherlock if he would do her a favour and eat the excess. They both pretended her visits were purely for her own benefit, rather than to give Sherlock time for a shower and a hot meal every day. Sherlock still felt overwhelmed, caring for their newborn son by himself, but he struggled a little less with Mrs Hudson’s help.

*****

John was too unwell for the first week or so to realise that Sherlock was too exhausted to interact with him at all, but as time went on, and John’s health improved, he began to worry about the toll everything was taking on Sherlock. John spoke to Mary one afternoon, telling her all of his concerns for his mate, and after that, she would take Alex off to “check him over” in a corner of the room while Sherlock and John snoozed together on John’s bed, Sherlock’s arms tightly around John and John’s nose tucked into the join of Sherlock’s neck and shoulder.

It took Sherlock an embarrassingly long time to work out what was going on – nearly two weeks – and his attitude to Mary warmed considerably once he had.

*****

Greg had tried to leave Sherlock alone while John was still in the hospital, but when the brutal triple murder he’d been working on had given him no further leads for the second week in a row, he gave in and visited Baker Street. Mrs Hudson was out, picking up a few things John had asked Sherlock to bring in with him the next time he came, but Greg had a key, so let himself straight in. He ran up the seventeen stairs to Flat B, knocking on the door even as he opened it and stepped inside. The sight that greeted him was something he had never imagined he would ever see. Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa in his dressing gown, fast asleep, with baby Xander snuggled up on his chest. Sherlock’s arms were tucked around his infant son, cradling him safely even in his sleep. Greg paused for a moment – he remembered how it had been when his daughter had first been born, feeling like he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep for the first year – but just as he was about to turn and leave again, Xander wriggled a little, and Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open as he awoke. He pressed a kiss to Xander’s wispy hair, and then noticed Greg.

“Greg?” he asked, in a sleepy voice. He sat up carefully, supporting Xander’s head, eyes flicking to the file Greg held in his hand.

“It’s that triple murder in Bermondsey, Sherlock, I’m at my wit’s end… can you take a look? I’m desperate.” Sherlock looked between the file and his baby, as though trying to decide whether he should look at the contents of the file while holding Xander. “I can take him, if you like..?” Greg offered hesitantly. Alphas were known to be very territorial over their children where other Alphas were concerned, unless it was a close family member. Greg knew he was risking a lot even offering to take Alexander; Sherlock’s instincts could be awoken very quickly, and it could be dangerous. It seemed, however, as though Sherlock considered Greg to be a family member, at least on some subconscious level, because he indicated to Greg that he should sit down on the sofa, then carefully handed baby Xander over, instructing Greg on how he should properly support him. Greg nodded solemnly, making sure to follow Sherlock’s instructions, and deliberately failing to mention that he had, in fact, held his own daughter when she had been a newborn baby. Sherlock placed himself between Greg and the door, in order that Greg would not be able to leave with Xander without Sherlock noticing, and then flipped open the file.

Two hours later, Xander was fast asleep in Greg’s arms and Sherlock had the contents of the file spread all around him on the floor. Greg stood up, needing to stretch his legs, and Sherlock was immediately on his feet, almost growling at Greg. The detective inspector stopped dead, holding one hand up to Sherlock, and said “Sherlock, it’s okay mate, I’m just stretching my legs… But since you’re up anyway, can you take him for a moment so I can nip to the loo?” Sherlock took his son carefully in his arms, bringing him up close so he could scent the baby again, rubbing his nose on the soft cheeks to cover Xander in his own scent. Greg had been very careful not to touch the baby any more than he had to; he had tried to keep his own scent on the child and his clothes to a minimum.

Xander chose this moment to decide it was time for lunch, so Sherlock quickly prepared his bottle, testing the heat of the milk on the inside of his wrist, and tucked himself into his chair, feeding Xander. When Greg returned, he sat back down on the sofa and turned to Sherlock.

“Well? Can you give me anything?” Sherlock’s reply was soft, as though he was trying not to disturb Xander.

“Check out the sister of the first victim, she said she was at her life drawing class until six, but she can’t have been. There was a flood two streets over from the college, and classes were all cancelled first thing in the morning because the college had no water. It was fixed later that afternoon, and the college sent out text messages to all the students, but she said she didn’t get the brother’s message because her phone battery was dead. If that was the case, how did she know the class was back on?”

Greg pumped the air with his fist gleefully. “I _knew_ there was something dodgy about her, I just couldn’t put my finger on it!”

Sherlock continued, “Have a look at this crime scene picture as well, do you see the marks there, by the fridge? It’s been pulled out regularly enough to mark the flooring, I’d suggest you see what’s behind it.” Greg started to collect up the reports and photographs, tucking them back into the folder. “Greg…” Lestrade stopped for a moment, looking at Sherlock. “Thank you, I need this… Let me know if there’s anything else you need me to look at. Obviously I might need to wait until Xander’s a bit bigger before I come out to any more crime scenes… At least until John’s back home…” He bit his lip, as though worried that John might not make it back at all.

“I popped in to see John this morning, before I came here, he seemed to think he might be allowed home by the end of the week,” Lestrade said, stuffing photographs and papers into the file again. Sherlock’s face seemed to fall a little. “That’s good news, isn’t it, Sherlock?”

“I don’t know if he’ll be well enough, won’t he be better off staying in hospital, just in case?” Sherlock’s eyes were a little desperate as he looked to Greg for reassurance.

“Sherlock, home is going to be the best place for him. He’ll have you to help with Baby Alex,”

“Xander.”

“Baby Xander, then, and he’ll have you around all the time so he can scent you whenever he needs to… Sherlock, now the danger’s passed, the best place for John to be is back in his home, surrounded by his family, with his Alpha. Come on mate, I’ll give you a lift to the hospital, you can see him for yourself.” Greg picked up Xander’s changing bag and Sherlock’s coat, looking around for Xander’s car seat. Sherlock smiled wanly, and turned to tuck Xander safely in his car seat. He grabbed his keys and his mobile, and followed Greg down the stairs, heading off across London to see his love.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John returns home, and the new little family try to adjust to life together. Sherlock has time to start some research into their strange bonding situation.

Thursday afternoon saw John slowly and carefully climbing the stairs to flat B, with Mrs Hudson fluttering nervously above with baby Alex in her arms as Sherlock hovered behind him. John was determined to get up the stairs under his own steam, but as it turned out, he only made it about halfway up before he had to give in and accept help from Sherlock. With his nose buried in the crook of Sherlock's neck, his arm around Sherlock's shoulders and Sherlock's strong arm around John's waist, the pair made it safely up the rest of the stairs to the sofa. John honestly didn't think he had it in him to make it any further into the flat, not even into their bedroom, despite it being on the same floor as the sofa.

Sherlock fussed around him, tucking pillows and blankets in, virtually trapping John in a woolly cocoon, until he roused enough to say, "Sherlock, what the hell?" and was released a little. John reached out for Alex, and Sherlock carefully tucked him into the crook of John's arm, moving a pillow underneath his elbow to help support Xander's head. John let out a loud sigh, and snuggled his nose into the soft downy hair on the top of Alex's head, and the pair of them promptly fell asleep.

Sherlock stood for a few moments, just watching the two people who had become the absolute centre of his world. He wasn't really sure what to do; since Xander had come home, Sherlock's time had mainly been taken up with looking after his infant son, taking the opportunity to run around the flat trying to keep it in some semblance of order while Xander was sleeping, or chasing around London on his way to or from the hospital to visit John. Now John was home, Mrs Hudson had spent a couple of hours tidying and cleaning the flat - "not your housekeeper dear, but since John's coming home today…" - and Xander was fast asleep with a full tummy and dry nappy, having been fed and changed at the hospital before they left in the car Mycroft had provided. His driver had carried John's bags up the stairs to 221B, knowing to not even attempt to assist John from the car, nor to try to remove Xander's car seat. He had held doors open and done the heavy lifting, then politely excused himself and left the little family to themselves.

For the first time in what felt like years, Sherlock had time to himself - and he didn't know what to do with it. He had no experiments on the go - there had been no time since before Xander had been born. Lestrade hadn't asked for his help with a case except for that one time - and if he was honest, Sherlock didn't really want to leave the flat. He carefully moved the coffee table over, and dragged his armchair nearer to the sofa, moving as quietly as he could so he didn't wake John or Xander. Grabbing his laptop from the table, he settled down into his armchair, and began to research.

It had occurred to Sherlock that they still didn't know why he and John had bonded, and now that he had some time to himself, Sherlock decided it was time to find out. He started by looking for articles about bonding generally, how the process worked, what the biological and chemical processes were. The first round of Googling threw up any number of insipid articles from magazines and websites for Omegas that Sherlock threw his hands up in despair. He amended the search terms so he was only searching scholarly articles, and once he'd selected a few dozen likely looking ones, he settled down to read.

About two hours after he'd dozed off on the sofa, John woke abruptly when Alex started to fuss.

"Sherlock? Love?" The curly head snapped up and Sherlock shot across the room to kneel at John's side.

"John? What is it? What's wrong?"

John chuckled. "Nothing's wrong, Sherlock, Alex needs a bottle, that's all." Sherlock rubbed his hand gently over Xander's head, and climbed up off of his knees, heading into the kitchen. He efficiently made up a bottle, and set it in a pan of water on the hob to warm up. John watched him, a warm feeling suffusing his body, as he saw how capable his flighty Alpha had become. While the bottle warmed, Sherlock made a cup of tea and a plate of toast for John. He set them all on a tray and brought them through; taking baby Xander from John and handing him the toast. John and Alex both settled down to eat the food provided to them by their Alpha, John watching Sherlock as he fed and burped Alex.

The next few days followed a similar pattern; John spent most of his time resting on the sofa, snuggled up with Alex, while Sherlock continued his research. In the evenings, Sherlock cooked - John had been even more surprised and amazed at this development - and they discussed what Sherlock's research had thrown up. There hadn't been anything of note really, a few older articles setting out the processes, then more recent articles detailing the blood chemistry, of both the Omega and the Alpha, as studied after bonding had taken place, and finally very few describing the neurochemical changes in the brain at the moment of bonding - those were very recent, since it was so difficult to study the neurochemistry at the actual moment of bonding due to the fact that until recently most doctors had been Alphas, and there was an obvious problem with trying to get an Alpha close enough to a bonding Omega to study them without their Alpha turning feral, or the Alpha doctor attempting to join in or even overpower the bonding Alpha.

After a week or so of diligent searching, however, Sherlock had come across a rogue article that hadn't been taken very seriously due to the fact that it had been written by an Omega neuropsychologist, and published in a very new and very obscure journal, that seemed to be written only by Omegas. It appeared to hint at the idea that some Omega-Alpha pairings were neurochemically much stronger than most, but what intrigued John about the article - other than the fact that it had been written and published by an Omega! - was that part of the study had involved interviewing the couples about their experiences. Other 'standard' couples had been interviewed also, to provide a control, and when the statistics were considered, the 'enhanced' couples both reported feelings of instant attraction, a feeling almost like panic when they were separated from each other, and in two cases, bonding had occurred after a bite but before any sex had happened. Admittedly the gap between the two events hadn't been very long in those cases, but Sherlock thought it sounded similar enough to his and John's situation that it warranted checking out. He fired off a quick email to the neuropsychologist, Dr Beardshaw, asking for a meeting.

Two days later, a rather cagey email came back, asking what Sherlock's interest was in the article. After a week or so of furious emailing back and forth, Sherlock had found out that although his and John's case was by no means the only one Dr Beardshaw had heard of, it did seem to be the longest gap between the bite and bond that she'd come across. Dr Beardshaw herself was not available for a meeting, however, as she was attending a conference in Alabama, and John was not prepared to travel with Alex, and the idea of leaving him made Sherlock feel physically sick. One other piece of information had Sherlock off in a flurry of research again; apparently Dr Beardshaw had been corresponding with another Omega colleague who had been investigating other couples who had experienced the same delayed instant bond that John and Sherlock had - and he seemed to think he had some evidence for some rather special chemistry going on between them. He was calling it the soul bond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to have time to update this fic - it's absolutely NOT abandoned, but life has kind of got in the way... I'm now working full time, two jobs, and what with the family as well, that's not left me much time for writing... Thank you for sticking with me, and I'll try very hard to do better...
> 
> Kisses x


End file.
